Dinant to Luxembourg

I was so excited going into this ride. My previous three rides were filled with wonderful sights, beautiful weather, and I was finally getting the hang of biking. In my ride from Brussels to Dinant I didn’t take any breaks in my five and a half hour ride and I rationed my water perfectly. I was excited for the challenge of a 140 kilometer ride. I was excited to see how I would fare against 9 hours of rolling hills and fickle weather. My bike, life, God, they had different plans.

Before we get into the adventure that was this bike ride some context.

My bike is a performance road bike. It is made to go quickly on smooth roads, hence the thinner tires, curved handle bars, and most importantly the lack of shocks. Now for the most part I have been on roads. Paved roads I should say. And yes there have been bumps and cracks and sticks that I have run over, but nothing major. That is until google maps started leading me down paths in the middle of hay fields that lead to a paved road. If any of you have been down a dirt road that has also been driven down you know that there are two canyons in these roads that usually fit a car tire perfectly, these paths are no different except for the fact the as you continued on through the path those tire marks begin to slim and the dirt that once layered the ground transforms into rocks. Rocks, uneven ground, and a plethora of bumps incur large amounts of stress on my bike and in turn on my carriage. Without the protection of shocks this stress is pumped through the entirety of my bike: the frame, the wheels, and the bolts which hold my rear rack.

So with all of that knowledge in your brain now it probably doesn’t seem to surprising when I tell you that about 3 hours into my ride a bolt on one side of my rack ripped off leaving me with quite the predicament. This happened to me before in England and was equally as frustrating to deal with, but there were two significant differences that differentiated this event from England: The three screws still intact made it possible for me to ride my bike short distances, but the nearest bike store was about 50 kilometers away. Not wanting to risk the possibility of my bike completely breaking down I opted to do two separate half hour bike rides – one to the train station and the other to a bike store.

I got sooo lucky. By the time I reached the bike store, already having crossed the boarder into Luxembourg, they only had one rear rack left in stock. After quickly installing it I was back on the road… the paved kind… and only had an hour and a half left in my ride, which I rode gleefully.

When you are biking these distances it is as if you and your bike are on entity: as you move your bike moves, as you fatigue your bike slows, etc. So when a part of your bike breaks it is as if you yourself have been injured. The only difference is that limping has turned to walking. I have been injured, due to separate injuries, for a large portion of my life. The feeling of being handicapped is something that I loathe so naturally rides like these frustrate me to my very core and yet there are always moments during these times of trouble that soften my heart. Moments like this:

If you take anything away from these posts it should be that no matter where you are in life there are going to be little, beautiful, moments all around you. Just take a moment and look for them or, like in this case, it may literally run into you.